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Because this dark thrill burning through my flesh makes me feel more alive than I thought possible.
I stare at the cup of coffee perched all alone beneath the coffee-machine tap.
Then I grab a second cup from the stack of empties, place it next to mine, fill it up, snap the plastic lid on without any trouble.
Because my fingers aren’t trembling anymore.
Like pouring that second cup of coffee was a profound act of commitment, changing the spin of space, altering the trajectory of time, erasing the past, creating the future.
Suddenly my mind snaps into electric focus, and I’m certain Xavier will still be there in the back of my truck, waiting for me to return, trusting that I’ll keep my promise.
“He’s barefoot,” I say to myself as I secure the two cups of coffee in a cardboard holder and sweep my gaze up and down the aisles. I see a little section with some sports-type gear, including winter hats and gloves, sweatshirts and socks.
I grab a pair of thick wool-blend socks, then see a pair of over-shoe galoshes that should work on Xavier’s big feet. I take them to the counter, pay in cash, making sure to pull my hoodie down past my forehead so the cash-register cameras don’t get a close-up of my guilty expression as I buy coffee for two along with a man-sized set of footwear.
Then I’m out the door and walking to my truck, the cold winter air sending a chilling reminder that Xavier is a murderer, a convicted killer, that at the very least I should find out what he’s done before committing myself all the way to this deal.
Even though something inside me already knows Xavier isn’tthatkind of murderer. He hasn’t killed innocent people. He’s never hurt a woman or a child. He’s not the kind of predator who preys on the weak and vulnerable. Of course, I don’t know any of that for certain. I’m probably just telling myself what Iwantto believe about him.
Or really, what I want to believe about myself.
Because if Xavier really is a monster, what does it say about me if I’m going back to him?
5
XAVIER
“Didn’t think you’d come back.” I sip the hot coffee, look down at the over-shoes galoshes that fit pretty well with the thick socks. “Not without the cops, at least.”
Connie watches me drink. She’s got her hood back on, is standing against the closed metal shutter, her eyes following my every move. I’m still on the floor, sitting on my ass, leaning against a stack of cookie-cartons, legs stretched out in front of me like I’m lounging on a deck-chair.
“Didn’t think you’d be here when I came back,” she says after a long pause during which I see her eyes flash with a mixture of fear and excitement. Immediately I understand that Connie made a tough decision when she was in that gas station, and although she chose to come back, her conflict is by no means resolved. She shrugs, pulls her hood off, runs her fingers through her light brown hair, flashes those disarmingly blue eyes at me. “Not sure if Iwantedyou to be here when I came back,” she adds softly, looking away, curling a strand of hair around her ear, then cautiously glancing back in my direction. “I must be crazy to be back here myself.”
Finishing my coffee, I put down the empty cup and get to my feet. “And I must be crazy to still be here. Which makes us perfect for each other, baby.” A grin breaks on my face, but it doesn’t stay there long when I see Connie’s serious expression.
“I just lied to the prison Warden.” Her voice shakes. “And soon I’ll have to lie to the cops.”
My gaze hardens, my mood darkening. “You didn’thaveto do anything. You could have given me up when you were inthere. You chose to come back here, Connie. You chose to help me.”
“Did I?” Connie’s gaze hardens too, somehow making her look even more beautiful, like there’s some fire in this flower, some bite to this butterfly. She takes a gasping breath, her shoulders suddenly slumping. “Ohmygod, I did. Ohmygod, I shouldn’t have come back here.” She glances at the closed shutter behind her now, but although my brain tells me to grab her before she changes her mind, my body stays relaxed and calm.
Because I’ve already made my choice.
I know I can’t kill her, can’t hurt her, can’t even hold her against her will anymore. If she chooses to leave, I will let her go and take my chances out there.
But Connie’s made a choice too. She made it when she lied to the Warden and came back to the truck.
Came back to me.
It’s a monumental choice, and immediately I see that Connie doesn’t fully realize it, can’t fully accept it, won’t fully acknowledge it. There’s still too much sweet innocence in this woman. She’s turned around and mixed up by the clear attraction between us. It drew her back here, allowed her to convince herself that it’s about keeping promises, about being true to her word. That might be true—hell, thatistrue—but it’s not the whole story.
“You need the whole story, don’t you, Connie,” I say with quiet certainty. “About me, I mean. Why I was in prison. What I did to get locked away in a cage.” My face tightens with a grim smile, my gut lurching when I realize I’m going to have to open up to this woman if I want her to stay, if I want to keep her. “You need to know you aren’t helping a predator stay out of prison, aren’t allowing a monster to go free.”
Connie blinks, shrugs, then finally nods. “Yes,” she says softly. Then hurriedly she looks up. “I . . . I don’t think you’re a monster. Notthatkind of monster, at least. Not someone who’s done things that can never be forgiven.” She shakes her head with stubborn certainty. “There’s some instinct in my body that promises me you aren’t that kind of evil, Xavier. You could have hurt me, but you didn’t. You could have done things to me and I couldn’t have stopped you. It sounds crazy, but seeing how aroused you were, how hard you were, and knowing that you’ve been in prison for years . . . oh, Xavier, it makes me trust you even though I know nothing about your past.” She smiles now, blinking twice, then shrugging. “So if you don’t want to tell me, it’s all right.”
“No, it’s not all right.” My jaw tightens. “You’re too smart for that. You’re too sweet for that. You’re too . . . mine for that.”
Something wild streaks across her face. “What?”
